


Adopt Don't Shop

by Sebbie_96



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Animal Abuse, Dog Fighting, M/M, Pit Bull
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21862903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sebbie_96/pseuds/Sebbie_96
Summary: Bucky decided to adopt a dog after Steve pesters him about it, what follows is a beautiful story of how man and dog can save each other from their own nightmares (The Stucky is secondary to the plot)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Adopt Don't Shop

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: mentions of animal abuse (in future parts)  
> Words: 1187  
> Established Stucky relationship

“So, how does this work?” I asked the young woman at the reception desk.

“Well, you’ve already passed the home inspection and your personnel survey, so now you just have to choose your new best friend.” She explained simply, whilst scanning over her clipboard.

“Yea but … how does that work?” I clarify, my hands balled in my sweatshirt pocket, as I resisted the urge to tug my cap further down my face.

“Oh, well, you go back to the kennels and you can walk up and down the ranks, they each have a little whiteboard on their door, that will provide you with some basic info on them. The puppies are at the front, ‘cause people tend to look for them first, dogs with a black circle next to their name aren’t currently up for adoption, for health or behavioural reasons and dogs with a red star next to their name are dogs that only have a week left with us.” She explained briskly, whilst walking out from behind the desk and leading me over to a door. She paused to punch a number into the keypad before pushing the heavy door open and suddenly I was bombarded with the scent and sound of dozens upon dozens of dogs. “Once you find a dog you like, you can come and find me around here and then we can take him or her to one of the runs out back, for you to get to know them a little better and then we take it from there.”

“Um, ok, thank you.” I mumble as I shuffle further forward into the room.

In truth I have no idea what I’m doing here, Steve has been nagging me for months since we got back from Siberia, saying I should get a therapy dog, that it’d be good for me to have company when he’s out and that having a dog can help with depression and anxiety; apparently he’d been doing some reading whilst I was in court trying to explain to the US government how brainwashing works.

Anyway, I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here, it started with me agreeing to _consider_ getting a dog, then next thing I know my human-golden retriever of a boyfriend was driving me straight over to the nearest dog shelter to fill out about a dozen forms! Who knew you needed paperwork to adopt a mutt these days, I remember when you could just pick up a mangy pup off the streets and if you fed him enough for him to come back to you, he was yours.

Steve was more than happy to let the shelter-volunteer into our top secret Brooklyn loft, despite my many objections and as per usual he got his way. He has an annoying habit of getting his way, like I can’t help but just give him whatever he wants.

So here I am, in the middle of the kennels, surrounded by god knows how many dogs, most of which were quietly trying to take a nap, whilst there were some that seemed to yap constantly trying to get the attention they were being denied and others whined and cried as if they were in physical pain. _A sound I knew all too well._

I started wondering down the first line of kennels, the ones filled with litters of puppies, like the lady said, not really paying attention too much; they were all either sleeping or playing with each other. There were Labradors, German shepherds, a whole gang of mixed breeds, the occasional Rottweiler and of course many, many pit bulls, but they were all young and playful and paid no mind to the new person in the room.

I casually moved onto the next row of kennels, then the next and the next, not really paying much attention to any of the dogs, more caught up with thoughts of _what the hell am I doing here_ , but then, as I glanced from side to side giving each mutt a cursory glance, I was met with a pair of sad amber eyes.

He didn’t lift his head as I came into view, like all the rest of them had, he didn’t wag his tail when I stopped in front of him like the dog opposite had, he made no move at all, even as I came to stand right outside his door. He just watched me, his big sad eyes glued to mine, he didn’t move a muscle as I read over the whiteboard on his door:

**Name – Jett  
Age – 3-5 yrs old  
Health – Fully vaccinated and castrated, free from fleas and mange  
Likes – Balls, bones and bacon  
Dislikes – Men, bigger dogs  
Additional notes – Needs a single pet household, without kids or cats, ideally with a woman**

I let out a sigh as my shoulders slumped back down, I give him a final glance, not surprised to see that he still hadn’t moved an inch; his head still propped up on his front legs, a blanket draped over his back, his eyes on me. I looked back at the curly haired mutt opposite him that had now gone up onto her hind-legs as she jumped at the wire door trying to get my attention, the comparison couldn’t be more opposing.

I shook my head as I went to move on down the line, but as I took my first step away from him, I heard a distinct sigh and all of a sudden my heart was in my throat. I looked back at him to see his eyes were now closed, but I could see in his posture that he wasn’t asleep, no in fact I doubt he slept easily at all; his body was too tense, his mind on high alert, ready to strike at the smallest sign of danger, or better yet, ready to run away. I knew the signs well; they were the same signs I constantly tried to hide from Steve. _God dammit!_

I looked at the whiteboard again, this time noting the red star next to his name, _‘dogs with a red star next to their name are dogs that only have a week left with us.’_ the lady had said, only now I was left to wonder, what the hell does that mean. I looked back at the dog again, his eyes were open again now and watching me just like before. I crouched down to get on his eye level and we seemed to stare at each other for an eternity, before he eventually let out another huff and closed his eyes again. I could feel the dejection rolling off of him in waves, there was no hope, no life, no spark in his eyes, he was alive but he was barely living. I knew the feeling all too well and I knew how hard it was to pull yourself out of it; hell I needed the help of an ever-optimistic, stubborn, bone-headed boyfriend to haul my arse out of bed, even on my good days. So in that moment I knew, _this guy was coming home with me!_


End file.
